


Twenty Measures of Cunning

by freddiejoey



Category: Arthur of the Britons
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-31
Updated: 2011-08-31
Packaged: 2017-10-23 07:20:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/247662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freddiejoey/pseuds/freddiejoey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kirk never learns his lesson........</p>
            </blockquote>





	Twenty Measures of Cunning

I am smiling as we set out for the boundaries of Cornwall. The weather is warm, on each side deep green fields sweep and fold softly into one another, the scent of lavender and honeysuckle touches the pale blue sky. Llud rides ahead, Theo riding on one side of him, Cedric on the other. Maeve is roosting behind her grandfather, looking around with her father’s bright brown eyes. And I have ebony-haired Ren with me in a sling. He’ll sleep peacefully all the morning, touch oak.

So, four children, a contented grandfather and a mother wafting along on pure happiness, several mares and a number of breeding cows, trotting off to the annual livestock market in Mark’s territory. We will be away a week or so, hoping to get a good price for the animals and bring home an amorous bull or two. Llud is also eager to enlighten Kai’s boys a little more about shanks and withers than he has ever managed to teach their father and uncle. Actually I think that his grandsons, as well as Maeve, already do know more. They help drive the animals along, speaking knowledgeably about dewlaps and dew claws to their grandfather.

I suppose you might be wondering why I am so happy this morning. Well…..alright, sign plainly Lenni and stop beating about the nettles. Cock then. Huge thrusting golden Saxon cock last night, shimmering with wet delicious seed……. I can still savour the sweetness on my tongue, feel its sinew tingling in my honeypot……..

Earlier in the evening, I thought that the longboat might have sailed without me so to speak. One moment Kai was there laughing with Arthur and when I had time to look around again, Arthur was busy telling our boys and Luc yet another tale about Baden Hill and Kai had disappeared. So all my crafty careful preparations had been for naught…….Kai had obviously put himself to sleep in the longhouse bedroom, still wearied by the head wound he suffered a few months ago. And I had thought myself so resourceful – making sure that Maeve was settled early with Arthur’s girls, encouraging all three boys to continue demanding exciting battle stories, spurring Llud toward Olwen’s hut.

Since Baden Hill, what with all the wounded to be tended and Kai’s injury, there has been no opportunity at all for…..indulgences. Hence my hustling last night, with Rowena as an ally (although perhaps Llud did look a trifle suspicious when she handed him his cloak before his plate was quite clean. In fact no-one is more helpful than Rowena in such situations. “Llud’s hasn’t been nursing a wound,” she said firmly as we prepared the evening meal, “Olwen isn’t lacking for refreshment.”)

Which was why I was so disappointed to go up to my hut with only Ren for company. Except…….that when I pushed open the door my bed was already occupied. By a wonderful beautiful naked grinning Saxon, with the sheepskins thrown back just enough to see the trail of fine wavy flaxen hair that begins in the crevice of his navel and ends……well, in a glorious shaft-girdling riot of blonde curls. And so I need say no more……..

Suffice to explain that this morning I was floating around putting so much honey into the porridge that I might as well have been making starch. “Heavens girl,” laughed Kai, brown eyes twinkling in amusement, looking handsome and desirable and divine beyond bearing , “Anyone would think you’d been up more than half the night – and I know for a fact that Ren didn’t wake once.” In the end, I simply surrendered, let Rowena make her usual lumpy concoction, drifted into space like a moth to a flame, stared way too long, held my breath, melted……..Acting exactly like Rowena when she gazes at Arthur and I think that I have never known a woman so madly in love…….only to suddenly remember that oh yes, I do, I know me…….

I am still smiling when we reach the markets two days later. On these visits,, Llud is always accommodated in the homestead of his old friend Ambrosius. The chieftain whose lands abut Mark’s, Ambrosius has a village further down the coast but his homestead is where he breeds the red shorthorn cattle for which he is as famed as Yorath is for his horses. He and Llud once fought the Saxons together in the east along with Arthur’s first father Travon and my father March, who fell with Travon at Ilchester. And also that old rogue Kirk…………

Have you noticed how, when you have been thinking of someone, perhaps long absent or only intermittently seen, they will appear without warning? We have had a pleasant evening with Ambrosius, his wife Daere and some of their grandchildren who match my brood in age. The next morning I stay behind with Ren while Llud and the other three children go to sell and buy livestock at the markets a few leagues away. Tomorrow I will accompany them so I can replenish my supplies of medicinal herbs and salves at the peddlers’ stalls. But for now, it is simply nice to laze around with my little dark-haired Saxon, laughing with Dacre, enjoying the quiet after all the bustle and work following Baden Hill.

However when Llud returns in the evening I know straight away that something is troubling him and after supper, I gesture an enquiry. My father by marriage grimaces. “Kirk is here – as he is some years and others not. You know I have never trusted the rapscallion and less so since our adventure with those six measures of silver. He has four fine breeding oxen with him. Theo noticed them first because of their impressive black hides.” He reaches out and ruffles his grandson’s fair hair. “Kirk insists that they belong to Berthold – his wife Bron’s father. She isn’t here with him and neither is their son Cymry - although the boy is almost a man by now and you would expect him to be helping Kirk. Bron may be as slippery as her husband but Cymry is as honest as Bertold. It makes me suspicious that something underhanded is afoot.”

Letting out a weary breath, Llud gets to his feet. “ Of course, I may be worrying over nothing. Yet my ancient hunter's nose is twitching.” I laugh up at him. “And as Arthur always says, when that happens there’s trouble ahead.”

The next day I ride to the markets and do my own purchasing. A pack pony worth of roots and balms, enough to replace those used after Baden Hill and more, since Arthur has given me a pouch stuffed full of silver and bronze. Throughout the afternoon I see Kirk, a distance away, presenting his healthy specimens to prospective buyers - and making a profitable sale just before sunset, judging by the highly satisfied smile wreathing his face.

He makes some jubilant remark to Llud, who is rounding up his three blonde charges, obviously inviting his old comrade in arms to a night of mead and reminiscence. But, Llud points toward the children, spreads his hands in regret, congratulates Kirk again on the good price he has managed for the oxen. “Berthold will be pleased” Llud shouts over his shoulder as he hurries Cedric away from a basket of tumbling hunting puppies. And Kirk nods in complacent agreement.

It is just after dawn the next day when Tarn rides into Ambrosius’ homestead. He is one of the nicest men you will ever meet (although obviously I am married to the very nicest of all.) Llud has a soft spot for Tarn because he is the son of Crispus, Vala’s Roman childhood companion; the grandson of Agrippa, another of Llud’s younger-day comrades. They both taught Arthur the short sword. Always affable, Tarn is married to one of Ambrose’s pretty daughters and the father of two curly-haired little sons. This morning though, he also looks anxious.

As we break our fast, the story unfolds. Apparently Tarn’s two herdsmen were bringing valuable livestock to the markets when they were attacked and the animals stolen. The herdsmen returned to his encampment with bruised temples and bad headaches. Clubbed from an overhanging branch apparently (a nifty trick, first perfected by Cabot the Crafty, one of Arthur’s warriors, when Arthur was pretending to be dead several years ago.)

Tarn is here to try and recover the animals – or at least discover what has happened. After all, they are worth at least four measures of silver each. Llud gives me a meaningful glance behind Tarn’s back. “So, how many animals were there?” Sighing, Tarn sits down in front of the hearth with a warm cup of mead. “Four good strong beasts.” Llud sighs too. “And what sort of stock are they, worth sixteen measures of silver all told?” (clearly though he already knows the answer before Tarn speaks.) “They’re breeding oxen Llud – a distinctive sable colour. Everyone says what wonderful shiny hides they have……..”

So, Kirk has struck again, pilfering, plundering, stealing…….Llud’s nose, as usual, has twitched in exactly the right direction. The oxen are already gone with their elated new owner toward the land of the Picts, but Kirk is still here and richer by twenty measures of silver – yesterday he pocketed five measures for each gleaming black beast.

“What are you going to do?” I watch Llud pacing impatiently in the stable. Thoughtfully he rubs his chin. “I’m not sure – at least get Tarn his silver back somehow since he’s almost lost a Roman ransom……… But how………We know that Kirk stole those oxen…….. yet we have no definite proof and we can’t go on a wild duck chase up into the marshlands where their buyer is headed. There has to be another way to make Kirk hand over his misbegotten gains………..”

Musing, Llud sits down on a bale of straw, thinks hard for a few minutes, looks at me considering. “I wonder……….it would depend on whether there really is still a conscience under Kirk’s oily countenance……however, perhaps worth a try……. Kirk certainly knew King Athel years ago, but living way up north for so long, he isn’t likely to know much about Tarn, probably just that Tarn is Athel’s grandson and the rightful owner of those oxen………” There’s a wily sparkle in Llud’s eyes. “Besides, Kirk has never really seen you since you became a woman has he?” I am totally confused as to what Llud is concocting but, calculating quickly, I shake my head.

Of course, Kirk knows Rowena. Yet I cannot say that he would even recognize me. He visited the longhouse a handful of times when Kai and Arthur were growing up, when we were all children. Then nobody saw him for a number of years – until Llud and Rowena encountered him again and Llud retrieved Berthold’s six measures of silver. Since then, he has been to Arthur’s village three times – during his first visit, when I was newly married, fever was raging and I never left my hut for a moment as it was overflowing with the ill ; the next time I was away in Cornwall, delivering Mark and Eithna’s son Tristram; and on the last occasion, his overnight stay coincided with Maeve’s birth. So, no, Kirk hasn’t laid observant eyes on me recently.

At these markets, he has seen only Llud with my three eldest children – all blonde replicas of Kai. If he has noticed me making my way around the peddlers’ booths, it would be only as another dark-haired Celtic woman with her equally dark-haired baby. Fairly nondescript, certainly not beautiful enough to warrant comment or a second glance…….

Llud’s eyes are twinkling merrily now and I feel myself smiling in response, still unsure of his reasoning. “Well daughter-by-marriage, do you think that you might be persuaded to indulge in some honest trickery……..?”

The strangest part is actually having my hair down out in public. Since I was married and became a mother, my long black hair has been neatly plaited and coiled around the back of my head, whenever I am outside the longhouse – (apart from the days when Rowena and I go to wash our hair in the river, a task that takes her five minutes and me a good hour.) It has somehow become a part of my respectable exterior (with my interior, of course, being a whole other wanton matter.) Now though, I am sitting in the dusty undergrowth on the side of the Roman road, clutching Ren to my breast, hair tangled every which way around my face, gown torn at the sleeves and the hem, face smeared with cinders for good measure. At any moment they should appear……..

And here they are, riding around the bend, Llud having offered to accompany Kirk on the first few leagues of his journey home. Kirk looks very pleased with himself and Llud is laughing, seemingly at ease. I wait until they are almost level with me………

Then dash out and throw myself against the weedy paving stones, careful to hold Ren tightly. The horses dance a little in fright, Kirk appears genuinely startled and Llud…..how he manages to keep a straight face and look so concerned at the same time I will never know…….. He bends down to me, takes my arm, pats Ren’s downy black head. “There, there, my dear, it cannot be so terrible……..Tell us slowly, what ails you……” For the first time, he pretends to notice my wildly waving fingers. “You’re trying to say something………you can’t speak……….once you could but no longer………”

Kirk moves a little impatiently on horseback. “Llud, we should really be getting along…….Bron will be worried if I’m late to arrive home……” I turn imploring eyes up to him, gesture again frantically at Llud. “Just a moment Kirk………you say that you are all alone and need our help…….you were a sinner…….stole a calf worth a few measures of silver from a certain chieftain and he punished you by………..” I make another series of vicious stabbing motions with my fingers and Llud looks shocked and saddened. “He sought redress by cutting out your tongue. He’s cruel and heartless – a bloodthirsty brute who will stop at nothing in wreaking vengeance. Who will hunt a man down in the last corner of the world to seek revenge.”

Llud puts a consoling arm around me. “I’m so sorry my dear. What’s the name of this monster?” Weeping now, I make a final piteous gesture, open my mouth as if to speak (making sure my pink tongue is safely curled against the back of my throat), demonstrate that no sounds will ever emerge again. Taking a deep breath, Llud gazes back at Kirk. “The monster’s name is Tarn?” Silently I weep on, nodding, watching through my downcast lashes as every bit of colour suddenly drains from Kirk’s face, leaving it ivory-pale with a faint sheen of sweat………

Carefully, Llud helps Ren and me on to the back of his horse. “She’s clearly in distress Kirk and in desperate need of a warm fire and good food. I’ll take her back with me. This Tarn……well, I have heard of him and the most grisly tales must be true – a lout and a barbarian. All this savagery over one small calf……..imagine if it was something of far greater value………. God speed Kirk. Have a safe journey and give my greetings to Bron and your son.” With that he turns his horse around, leaving an ashen quaking Kirk in the middle of the road, both of us fighting to bite our lips and stifle our laughter until we are securely away……….

The next morning a sack containing twenty measures of silver and a parchment of instructions is waiting for Llud when he opens Ambrosius’ kitchen door…….

Tarn is delighted when Llud hands him back the jingling coins (although Llud refuses to tell Tarn how he recovered the clinking sack) and all the way home, we smile to ourselves in triumphant glee. Happy with the three new bulls that are travelling with us, happy with the prices our own livestock have fetched, happy to be journeying toward a certain lovely blonde Saxon and his sweet Celtic chieftain brother……

Back in the village, Arthur and Kai are doubled up with mirth as Llud recounts the story. Rowena and her brood haven't returned yet from Yorath’s where they have been attending her cousin’s marriage feast. But Tugram too is sitting at the longhouse table, chuckling into his mead. “I would have paid silver to see stupid Kirk’s stricken face.” He smiles at me. “Good thing that you’re back though young Lenni, Arthur had a fever while you were away. Couldn’t leave the longhouse for the whole time it rained and only Kai here to care for him. Have to watch those fevers……they can carry you off in a day and a night.”

Now, it’s my turn to suddenly become intently interested in the fresh rushes on the floor. Poor Tugram – he will never guess that Arthur has never been healthier – although he and Kai have undoubtedly spent their time alone together being carried off somewhere, just not exactly where Tugram has been envisaging………Especially in light of the dreamy, we’ve-just-fallen-in-love-all-over-again expressions that the pair of them are wearing………

A few days later, after Rowena is home, I am busy filleting a haunch of boar at the longhouse table…….and smiling once more. Kai has whispered this morning that, since I did such a magnificent job of deceiving villanous Kirk, he may just stop by my hut tonight to give me the sort of reward that all good girls deserve……….Then Arthur looks around the doors, grinning. “Lenni, come down to the palisade for a moment. Llud needs you.”

Curiously I wipe my bloody hands on a piece of rag and hurry outside. Llud is standing near the gate with Rowena and Kai who is holding Ren. There is also someone else with them, standing beside his horse. That’s when I start to grin too……

Hearing me approach, Llud turns around, winks, clasps my hand to draw me forward. “Ah, there you are…….Kirk, I don’t think you have met Kai’s very clever wife for many years, not since she was a small girl. Kirk, this is Lenni.” And Llud is just in time to put out his arms and catch Kirk, as the old rogue falls to the ground in a dead faint……


End file.
